In The Heat Of Battle
by schatzi.mhmm
Summary: Ron's in the middle of the Battle of Hogwarts. His brother is dead. He and Hermione make a sudden decision to get married, desperate for the other to know they love them before it's too late. Carries on after the war to see the newlywed coupledom.
1. Fractured Lovers

The battle was raging fiercely around me. Screams and loud gasping breaths filled the air, lighting up with different colors, from different spells, whether they be protective or sinister as they decorated the air.

Hermione. My chest heaved painfully as I scanned the room for her. I sent a stunning spell at a Death Eater nearby who seemed to already be bleeding. The longer he was out, the better. He slumped against the wall forceably, unconscious.

Hermione. My head was like a dripping faucet, the droplets of water echoing her name throughout my head. Hermione, Hermione. We were dueling side by side, hand in hand but we had to separate in the heat of the battle. My chest was still aching with the idea that my brother was dead. Harry, my best friend and adoptive brother. I haven't seen Hermione for awhile.

Hermione, Fred, Harry, Mum, Dad. My head was a colossal mixture of worries and pains. I could see my Dad out of the corner of my eye easily over taking a Death Eater, who went flying backwards into the brick wall with such a force, it crumpled under his body until he fell, silent and unmoving. I smiled to myself proudly.

Harry. Dead. My throat closed and I gasped for breath as the pain waved through me again. Hagrid carried in his immobile body in. I knew what Voldemort had said about him sneaking off was a dead lie. He gave himself up and I knew it in my heart.

I pressed my back up against the cool bricks, gasping painfully at the stabbing pain in my chest. Whether it was from the physical stress of dueling or the emotional stress I was undergoing, I couldn't tell you. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to remember the way Hermione's lips had felt on mine in the Room of Requirement or after our declarations. She married me. Her arms around my neck, curled in my hair as she kissed me. Her arms around my waist as I flew us out of the Fiendfire Malfoy's goones had created or flying us out of the Chamber of Secrets. I desperately tried to react my cells to grasp the feeling of her hand in mine once more.

God Hermione , please be alright. I prayed silently for a moment, opening my eyes and searching for her. There were less Death Eaters to fight but one Death Eater; hell, even one stray spell could hurt her. Like the one Dolohov sent her in the Ministry. One spell could ruin my life forever, take away my life forever because Hermione was my life.

I had come to the conclusion that I couldn't live without Hermione while in the Chamber. War was raging stories above us as we ran through the seepy and dark chamber, water dripping eerily as our footsteps led us to the Basilisk. As I watched her collect the fangs that I had magically removed, standing in front of the beast that had nearly killed her second year, I decided that no matter what happens to me, Hermione better live. She better have a damn good life because I know I would jump in front of a flame of green for her. My whole body ached but I knew that if I stood stationary for too long, I'd slump to the ground in sleep. I pushed off the bricks, looking around, searching for someway I could help.

Before I had time to deeply ponder my answer, my mother appeared at my side. "Ron." She breathed almost inaudibly, grabbing me into a hug. I gripped her fiercely, inhaling the comforting scent of my Mommy and burying my face in her hair. I had no idea how much I could miss my mother. When I was at school, I could write her. I would see her during breaks. But it was approaching a solid ten months since I had any contact with my mother.

"My boy." She mumbled, clutching me so hard breathe seeing as how I was pretty sure I had broken some ribs. I opened my mouth to address her when my stomach dropped at what I heard.

**"YOU FILTHY MUDBLOOD! I THOUGHT I ALREADY TAUGHT YOU HOW TO RESPECT YOUR SUPERIORS**!" A voice crackled with fury as my mother gasped. I whipped around and I had to breathe out a sign of relief that Hermione was still alive. That euphoric feeling evaporated quickly. Hermione was faced off against Bellatrix Lestrange, about twenty feet away from me. Hermione's wand flicked and Bellatrix was thrown into the air with a scream, landing on the ground with a sickening thud.

I smiled proudly at my girl. She was wearing my Chudley Cannons sweatshirt, that I'd given to her in the Chamber cause it was freezing down there. It was huge on her, drowning her with it's orange fabric but I loved seeing her in it. That damn gray bloody beaded bag across her was a deepening bruise along her cheekbone and her curly ponytail was coming loose. Over the years, Hermione's hair has gone from wild, matted frizz to perfect curly ringlets. Ringlets I loved more then life itself because they were apart of the girl I love.

I love her, my wife.

I hate her for basically walking into a suicide mission. She promised me quickly seconds before we watched my brother die with a haunting smile on his face that she would take care of herself. She promised me that she would be careful and not put herself into a dangerous position. She promised.

_But you broke promises to her_, a sick voice reminded me in the back of my head. Like how I promised the night of the wedding, huddling together in the night at Grimmauld Place, that I would never leave her. I told her were were a team. I wiped her tears away and we fell asleep with our pinky entertwined. I broke a pinky promise. That stuff's legit. How could I have broken that when I left her and Harry. I should have shoved my pinky in her face and made her ... _UGH!_ Ron, not important right now, I growled to myself as I watched in horror as Bellatrix got to her feet.

"Big mistake." She smiled sickenly at my Hermione. My stomach dropped to my ankles as a deep gash threaded against Hermione's stomach so loud I could practically hear it from where I stood. My mother gasped in shock. Blood appeared, thickening the front of my sweatshirt, bright and vibrantly red. Anger boiled my own blood, thudding through my veins with my painfully quickened pulse.

My grip tightned on my wand, but I was ready to pounce on that bitch Muggle style. My mother tightened her own grip on my arm, however. Hermione breathed painfully, gasping her stomach in agony. But I saw something flash across her hazel eyes. I knew them well enough to know when she was fired up, enthused. And boy, was she _jazzed_.

And the dance began. Their arms were in perfect synchronization, choreographed with a sickening pace. When one casted a spell, the other deflected it. Despite the blood staining 'Mione's shirt, her body was fighting just as hard as dear old Bella.

It was an extremely sensual experience watching Hermione duel. The fire burning in her eyes. The taunt and determined line her perfect lips became. The curve of her hips in desperation as her shoulders rotated forcefully with each spell. Her curls tugging loose from her hair tie. The confident smirk had long been whipped off Bellatrix's face and was now grimaced in real concentration at the prospect of her match. Hermione was definately the one to beat her. I might never get the chance to be with her. Be with her.

"Mum, what do we do?" I whispered desperately, gripping my mother's hand so tightly I don't know how she didn't pull away. She watched with the same desperation and fear as if I was the one dueling.

"Hermione can take care of herself. She has the Weasley fire." She said quietly, focusing on the duel unfolding in front of us. I saw the corner of her mouth curve up in a tired smile as she spoke. Their spells were crashing in the air, colliding in fury and explosives. I didn't - couldn't feel anything. Not the pain of my brother or Harry dead. Not the ache of my groaning muscles. Just my heart beating so loud I could hear it in my ears. The pulses were like a dramatic echo to the scene before me. Each thud seemed to slow down the movements, like they were moving in slow motion. Suddenly, Bellatrix's wand flipped through the air, landing with a gentle rustle at Hermione's gray Converse. My lungs expanded in relief as Bellatrix's face dropped in exasperation and surprise.

"Haven't you heard Bellatrix?" Hermione called in a sweet voice, walking closer. "But apparently, I'm the brightest witch of my age." I chuckled darkly, in spite of myself.

"What are you going to do Mudblood? Kill me? How dare you disarm a real witch?" Lestrange growled. I took a step forward, anger rushing through me like flames erupted from the Floo network but my mother tugged me back against the wall.

"When are you going to realize Lestrange that all this bloody blood status crap is rubbish?" Hermione demanded, stepping closer to the wild form of the Dark Lord's servant. "You are nothing but a pathetic piece of trash that is so caught up in being a murderer that you can't even realize that you are nothing but a _bloody bitch_ and you will not win."

"She swore." I breathed to myself in admiration, switching my gaze from a firey Hermione, to a intense Bellatrix and my mother, who seemed to be beaming proudly and disapprovingly at the same time.

"I have the same amount of magic in my veins as you do. And if having magical parents is golden, then you don't deserve it. I may be Muggle-born but you are the one with the filthy heart and the dirty blood you crazy, psychotic bitch." Hermione told her intensely, standing so close that Hermione had her wand pointed at Bellatrix's throat, her arm ram-rod straight.

"You took my sleep and turned it into nightmares. But if there is anything I learned from your evil, pathetic and disgusting master is that there is nothing more sad in the world then a person who has no heart. Who could torture someone with an Unforgiveable for hours without so much as a second glance." My mother gasped at Hermione's words, staring up at me with horror in her blue eyes. I simply nodded, not taking my eyes away from her.

"I hate you so much." Hermione whispered ferociously, tears in her beautiful eyes. With a flick of her wand, the chandelier hanging above Bellatrix crashed down onto her. A horrific sense of deja vu engulfed me. _"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_!" I heard Voldemort roar and my heart stopped beating as my wife's terrified stare met mine. A shield charm erupted out of no where and it was like the world stopped.

_**My wife as of a hour and a half ago...**_

Things were exploding all above me. My heart was throbbing, the pain from losing my brother. My lips tingling from the thought of Hermione's ferocious kiss. We were running through the halls, towards the Shrieking Shack to find Voldemort. Our passageway seemed clear, void of all the danger. A few dark cloaks appeared suddenly, wiping away that happiness. Hermione skidded to a violent stop next to me, Harry slamming into her back at her abrupt stop.

"Go." She whispered to Harry.

"What?" Me and my best friend hissed at her in unison.

"You need to go Harry. There is no other way out. Ron and I will take care of these loons and we'll meet you there. _Go_ Harry." She told him fiercely, briefly glancing at me for a second. I didn't really register Harry's departure because I was too busy obsessing over how she paired "Ron and I" together in a sentence. I really liked that but he was gone before I looked back.

Gulit raged me suddenly: what if I never saw him again? What if one of these Death Eaters kill me? Like Fred? What if I end my life without telling Hermione that I love her? Once again, I was too preoccupied with thought diahrrea before I noticed the Death Eaters advance so closely, Hermione raised her wand and began to duel. I quickly copied her.

Remember everything school has every taught you, Ron. Defense Against The Dark Arts. What a perfect real-world application this was. All those teachers, whether crazy convicts, werewolves, ministry puppets, two Voldemort followers or a media whore all have contributed to my knowledge of dueling.

Quirrel, Lockhart, Lupin, Fake Moody, Umbridge and Snape.

My teachers have bulit up my knowledge of whether or not I will fail. Hermione, too. With all the amount of time she spent helping me with homework, she taught me more then I could imagine.

She taught me how to despise and envy. She taught me how to mix potions or laugh at my own idiocy. Hermione Granger taught me how to be a best friend, to be loyal and courageous. Hermione taught me how to love someone with so much passion it hurt my heart whenever I was away. Hermione Granger also gave me plenty of dueling tips, especially after she whopped my butt in D.A

Keep your wand tightly gripped. Check.

Have a compile of spells in a list in your mind, ready to run down with each motion. Check.

Keep an eye on your target, but keep an eye out for your surroundings. Check.

Luckily, whoever I was dueling didn't have the same upbringing in defensive spells as I did. He was sloppy with his deflection of my spells, missing tons of his own that were far from me. But closer to Hermione. Which was obviously, not okay. The Death Eaters were pushing us closer and closer to the entrance hall, where the majority of the Battle was occuring. Things were exploding all around me as Hermione and I walked backwards, side by side. The way it should be.

Screams, cries and spells were tearing through the air, each one hitting me like a thousand needles, digging into my skin. I risked a glance at Hermione, watching proudly as the Death Eater went flying back into the brick wall. He no longer moved.

As Hermione noticed this, absolute horror in herself washed through her gaze. I could see it, the gulit of murder across her face. The gulit, pain, disappointment in herself. But Hermione is alot different then Death Eaters, those who go out in search of destruction and harm. She had a light in her eyes, of pure innocence no matter how many deaths she would encounter in her fragile eighteen years of life so far. She was better than this.

I wanted to just scoop her up in my arms and run away. I wanted to take away all of our pain, gumple it in a ball and toss it. I don't want to lose her, like I lost my brother. I don't want her to die with a ghost of her beautiful smile etched on her face. She can't go without me telling her how much she means to me. Fred would never have let me live that down.

Another Death Eater had challenged her now and there is nothing Hermione Jean Granger does, if not accept all challenges.

"Hermione!" I yelled, trying not to put her in any danger as I called for her attention. The guy I was dueling was jumping around like a jack rabbit to avoid my spells, but he was just too damn fast.

"Yeah?" She shouted back, even though she stood right next to me. I itched to reach out and grab her hand.

"I'm sorry for all the times I've ever - been mean to you. First year, with the whole - troll thing. And then our fight about Crookshanks. I'm sorry for ruining your Yule Ball and not - asking you first. I'm sorry for being a bloody git about Lavender - and I'm sorry leaving you. I know I never could apologize - enough for all of the pain I've cause but I just need - you to know." My little speech lasted a few moments because I had to keep pausing to take a deep breath to yell and duel at the same time. I know she heard me because she smiled slightly from what I could see in her profile from my peripheral vision.

"Don't you dare." She shouted as she danced around to my other side, following the Death Eaters tracks. The two idiots we were dueling were ducking and dodging our spells around each other, trying to hide.

"What?" I demanded, turning to glare at her. "Hermione -"

"Don't apologize. You're Ron, I know your a git. But your _my_ git, so that's all that matters." She yelled, her voice cracking with stress.

"But Hermione -"

"Don't you dare say goodbye to me, Ron. Not yet." Her voice was dripping with the threat of tears, but I could hear the finality in all of her words. I didn't want to argue because in my heart I knew she was right. She sent a jinx towards my mother, peeling off a Death Eater that was heading her way.

God bless her. She protects those who she loves. My mother was a mother to her. Like an in-law...

It hit me like a ton of bricks, crumpling from the castle walls. I didn't wait to process the pro's and con's of all of the aspects. I didn't deliberate and I didn't even have time for my ears to become a nervous red.

"Hermione!" I shouted, tugging on her arm. She gazed up at me , her eyes alive with fright.

"What?" She demanded.

"Marry me!" Her perfect pink lips rounded into the perfect "O". For once, Hermione Granger was rendered speechless. Her pretty little head was trying to form words, but her mouth was popping open and closed like a gapping fish.

"Before you come up with a million reasons to say no, hear me out. This isn't me trying to say goodbye. This is me trying to tell you that I have been in love with you for years and I do not want to die tonight, which is a serious possibility, without you knowing that. I want to die with you as my wife, knowing that your mine. And please don't go all crazy feminist on me 'Mione, because I'm scared and hurt and I just want to love you.

"We fight and argue but that's us, Hermione. Hermione and Ron. Best friends. I know we're only eighteen, but I want to die with you if I have to. And if we somehow make it out of this hell-hole alive, I know we can make it work. We can be together Hermione, I know we can do it. We will always be best friends with Harry and you'll get a big important job at the ministry. And you will be Mrs. Weasley and we can make a bunch of little Ron's and Hermione Jr's." She stifled back a laugh as tears gathered in her eyes.

"Huh? Doesn't that sound perfect? Doesn't that sound like the perfect thing to keep fighting for? A future? Come on, Hermione. They can have my obnxious ginger hair with your curls. And you can teach them how to read and I'll teach them how to ride a broom. And we can dance at our kids weddings that hopefully will not be like this." She gave a small giggle again.

"Ron..." She whispered my name so quietly I could only tell she did was because of the small movement on her beautiful lips.

"Right now, Hermione. Come on. Let me love you." I urged, pulling her slightly towards a wall away from the destruction. Her brown eyes were teary and full of wonder. I could not, for the life of me, comprehend what she was thinking. She's always been difficult to read expressions from, because she hids them so well.

"Kingsley!" She shouted after a moment, glancing over my shoulder. Kingsley Shaklebolt had a store keeper from Hogsmeade under his arm, helping him rest against the wall seeing as how he was bleeding from the right shoulder, but laughing about how much fun this all. Bloody idiot was clearly drunk. Like that isn't a sure fire way to get yourself killed in a war. Kingsley looked up at her call.

"Marry us!" She screamed, her eyes not leaving mine as brown met blue in a cosmic shifting power.

"You can't be serious?" Kingsley boomed in his deep authorative voice, but he was smiling slightly.

"One hundred percent sir." I responded automatically, reaching for her free hand. Her fingers grasped mine perfectly, like clay meeting a mold, effortless and filling.

"Okay then. Keep your eyes open though." Kingsley smiled, turning back to face the battle.

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, take me to be your lawfully wedded husband, for like ...ever?" I added, realizing how bloody stupid I sounded. She's probably going to say no now, just watch. I wanted to do a fabulous and epic hand to forehead slap, but her response stopped me.

"I do." She breathed with a sheepish and amazed smile.

"Brilliant!" I grinned like an idiot and she choked on a laugh, her brow furrowing as she raised her wand and shot a spell around me. I didn't turn back to look. Kingsley was already dueling the guy again, who miraculously rebounded from a Ms. Granger spell.

"Do you, Ronald Billius Weasley, take me to be your lawfully wedded wife?" She fired another spell, this time in the opposite direction. I was a little P.O'd that she wasn't taking this seriously, but I realized that her firing spells was keeping my stupid ass alive. The guy who had his back turned during a battle.

"To have and to hold," She smiled here, "For richer or poorer, in sickness and in health or until death do us part?"

"Hell yeah," I said breezily, brushing a curly lock behind her bruised and dirty face.

"Ronald" She sighed with a playful disappointment at my distasteful wedding vows.

"Okay, let's do this." Kingsley said, his deep voice in such a low octive that if it weren't for his playful attitude towards the subject, he would sound threatening. I locked my hand around Hermione's forearm and she did the same as mine, just like Bill and Fleur. A gold and silver string of misty light swirled around our arms, making my entire body tingle like fuzz of a soda. Hermione's grin grew bigger.

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you man and wife." Kingsley announced, turning back and running down the corridor while shooting off spells and screaming, "YOU MAY NOW KISS THE BRIDE."

And I did.

* * *

><p><strong>HELLLOO :)<br>I really hoped you liked this. I've had it running through my head FOREVER and I was bored tonight so I decided to try and get all of my gumbly thoughts onto paper. **

**PLEASE REVIEW. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. **

**I'm writing chapter two right now and it will be in continuation probably from right after they leave Dumbledore's office. They did get married, spur of the moment. **

**I know a lot of people will be like "WHAT?" Hermione wouldn't do that and Ron would not even suggest it. But I believe that in such a life threatening situation like that, not knowing if you will live the next five minutes, you would want the person you love to love you back. You'd want them to know that. And I think this way, Hermione and Ron can rest easy knowing that no matter what, the other knows their feelings. **

**But I always got the sense that Ron and Hermione just clicked even more when they were alone then with Harry. So I wanted to pull them apart in a way that would make sense but wasn't super clique like in the Chamber like that's been done like 425891225478686 times. I'm thinking maybe in my later chapters, I'll have a flashback in my version, but who knows. **

**I'm going to be writing aboutRon grieving for his brother, Ron's families reactions, Hermione getting her parents from Austrailia, Harry's thoughts on this, Fred's funeral and the two very important discussions that teenage newlyweds have when they just won a war? Consummation of a marriage perhaps? ;) don't worry, all PG-13. But these two finally got their acts together and they will have a very important talk all about it later. **

**RRREEEVVVIIIEEEWWW; please. please. no like really, please. :)**

**xoxoxo -LOVELOVELOVE- Morgan**


	2. Forever & A Day

Hermione ,Harry and I all left the headmaster's office in a comfortable silence. All of our brains had been racked to capacity so none of us felt particularly in the mood for conversation. The trio walked the halls they had missed oh so much, surveying the damage done by the battle. The flying spells, the screams and echos of destruction all seemed like a memory now.

"I've actually missed this place." Harry muttered, pushing a piece of brick with his foot. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon of the Forbidden Forest. My eye lids felt heavy against my skull and all I wanted to do was sleep.

I was hyper aware that Hermione was standing next to me, close enough to touch. Every nerve of my body felt like my cells were being drowned in Firewhisky. It was the most exhilerating feeling. My heart was still aching, pressing hard against my rib cage with the pain of losing my loveable brother. Just seeing him in a row of the dead sent chills up and down my vertebrate.

"I have too." Hermione responded to Harry's remark in a quiet voice. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, feeling my blood rush through my veins faster as I caught sight of the beautiful creature. It was approaching twenty-four hours since any of us has slept, but just the sight of her made my breath hitch and I felt more wide awake then ever.

We have so much to talk about. During our rushed ceremony, both of us were convinced we would die resting in each others' arms. But now...

Will she want a divorce or stay together? Will she get a job or come back here for school?

Will the school be fixed by September first? Do I want to come back, if Hermione is?

Where would we live? With Harry? On our own?

Do I need to get her a ring? I need one too, right?

Does she want kids? Big family or small? Boy or girl? WHEN?

Will she want a divorce or stay together?

Too many questions, memories, thoughts were occupying my brain. I'm Ron Weasley dammit, I'm not supposed to be thinking this much. That was Hermione's job. By the way she held herself, her eyes narrowed and lips taught, I could tell she was thinking about the same things as me.

I had watched her earlier, as the two of us sat with my grieving family, as she pulled her curly hair back into a ponytail. She had left a single curl out and it had swung back and forth across her silk smooth cheek as she walked. Her face, the color of creamy butterbeer, was paler then usual, my guess from exhustion and stress. She had a cut on her forehead from the second round of the battle that was already healing, thanks to Dittany. Her beautiful chocolate colored eyes were wide and I knew she was fighting to keep her eye lids open like I was.

Pain, whether it be physical or emotional, dragged her entire frame. I knew she still hadn't healed completely from the torture she endured at the Malfoy manor. Her face was dirty, from the escape from Gringotts, the battle and the fire caused by Malfoy.

Even dirty and exhusted, she still could beat out any veela there is.

She caught me staring at her, her dirty cheeks turning slightly pink. Harry had walked farthur up in front of us so it felt like I was in this ultimate serene bubble of just us. I felt the blood rush up to my ears but for once, I met her gaze. I didn't look away and I never wanted to again.

"You've got some dirt on your nose, by the way." I told her quietly, my voice husky. She laughed gently and the smile that lit her face radiated warmth through my body that for hours had felt cold.

"Did you know?" I inclined, tilting my head towards her. She nodded, rolling her eyes at my silliness towards our first conversation. I felt courage rushing through my veins like a drug before I reached up and cupped her beautiful face in my hand. The contrast between my dirty, calloused and rough hand and her smooth an creamy cheek was startling.

How badly did I want to kiss my wife . . . .

"Just there." I breathed before running my finger along the bridge of her nose. I could see her breath caught as her eyes met mine. Her lips were so close again . . .

"Hermione? Ron?" I felt a huge wave of disappointment crash as I heard Harry's voice. Hermione sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before pulling away. My intestines turned with the joy that she was mad about the interruption too.

"I don't know how to start." My best mate said, tugging his fingers through his hair and agjusting his glasses. I immediately reconized this as a signal that he was anxious.

"What's on your mind Harry?" Hermione said in her motherly tone.

"I just - I don't know how I will ever be able to thank you." Harry said in a gracious tone. "You two are my best friends. Blimey, you are the best friends any mate could ask for. There is no way I will ever be able to thank you. Since we were eleven, you two have always been there for me. After all of this, Ron, Hermione, you're the ones everyone should be thanking. Not me. You guys are the ones that kept me standing."

"Harry, you don't need to thank us." Hermione said with a small smile, speaking in a plural for the two of us. Us, I like that word from her lips.

"Your our best friend too. Of course we'll have your back. Always."

"Yeah, you're our best mate." I agreed. Harry looked even more exhusted then Hermione. For the first time in seventeen years, he will truely be free of that shadowing threat that was constantly hanging over his head. Relief was starting to radiate from ever inch of him .

"But..." Harry started but Hermionie interrupted him. She planted herself in front of him and put a hand on each of his shoulders.

"No buts. It's all over Harry. Everything is going to be okay. It's all over." She said quietly, I strained to hear her. I was overwhelmed by the truth there was in them.

And with those simple words, the great Harry Potter looked like he was choking. He gasped and pulled Hermione into a tight hug. She released a short sniffly laugh before returning the hug. Harry's eyes closed and I could see some water in his eyes.

For a moment, I watched them. A few weeks ago, this sight would have devastated me. But I realize now that I was fooling myself, thinking my two best friends had feelings for each other. The way Hermione hugged Harry was unlike the way she hugged me. After everything that happened between the two of usm tonight made everything fall into a new perspective for me. When she hugged Harry, she went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck. They swayed slightly from the force of the hug between the two best friends. Her eyes were closed, merely because she was on the brink of tears.

When she hugs me, she wraps her arms around my waist tightly and buries her face in my chest. I can feel her breath against my shirt when she had hugged me moments before Harry fetched for us under the invisible cloak.

"Group hug." Hermione declared with a tear caked giggle, holding out an arm for me. I chuckled but went over to envelope my two best friends in a hug.

"Unstoppable trio." Harry murmured and we all laughed. No matter what happens between me and Hermione's marriage, she will still no matter what, remain my best friend. (Except Harry, of course) But in my heart now, I know there is no way I can let her disappear from me now. The bond between the two of us over the past seven years was not something that could be broken by differences, distance or time.

That is something that I know in the bottom of my heart. I love her.

Kissing Lavender Brown was a much different experience then with Hermione Granger. With Lavender, it was all strategic. Lip, lip, tongue, hand. I had to play out everything in my head as I was doing it. But with Hermione, it felt . . . . right.

Everything cohearant thought zipped out of my head on a Firebolt. I couldn't think of anything exceptthe pure state of bliss. Her lips on mine, her fingers in my hair, her body alligning with mine, all significants of the love I had for her.

Harry left us in a few minutes, off to double check some things with Kingsley. He said he'd meet us in the dormitory later. Teachers were putting in cots in separate classrooms, so families could mourn and stay together in groups. The Weasleys were staying in the Transfiguration room. It was one of the biggest classrooms and there were so many of us . . .

So Hermione and I walked the halls of Hogwarts together, hand in hand until we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Go on in." She said, gently rubbing her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know you two." She smiled before swinging open.

Part of the Gryffindor Common Room had collapsed under an explosion, leaving one half of it covered in rubble. Hermione gasped lightly next to me, running her finger over the statue of Godric Gryffindor, whose arm was missing. I wanted to investigate, to look things over. But now, the only thing I know is Hermione, the only thing I see. I need.

"Come on 'Mione." I whispered in the quiet room. I reached my hand out to her, slightly begging.

Tonight has been and will continue to be a pivitol night in our relationship. We were balancing at the tip of a knife, dangerously capable of tilting either way. I wanted it in one direction, the better direction. The direction I'd been seeing in my head for years, the future of the two of us together, forever. Me by her side, her by mine. Hermione didn't say anything, just enclosed her fingers with mine, helping teeter the knife in the better direction.

I could feel my strength wavering, so I wanted to groan with happiness as Hermione led us to the boys seventh year dormitory.

"Wow." Hermione breathed. The rising sun was coloring the dormitory with warm orange, pink and purple shadows.

"Can you believe that yesterday morning, we were at Shell Cottage?" I whispered, my throat thick and husky.

"Not really. It's all been so overwhelming, nothing has really hit me yet." I nodded because I was feeling the same way.

"Hermione, about tonight -" I started to say.

"Ron, since the first year we came to this castle, there is no threat hanging over our heads anymore." She smiled slightly, locking my gaze. Her beautiful chocolate eyes were warm and fatigued. "We have plenty of time of talk everything out tomorrow. Or later today." She joked, gazing at the sun high in the sky.

"We have forever and a day."

"You're right." I nodded before adding, "Like always." She smirked at me.

I knew that the first night in a marriage was important. I'm not stupid, contrary to popular belief. But seeing as me and Hermione kissed for the first time about five hours ago and was married shortly after, it's okay if we don't go the in respectful order.

No matter how many wet dreams I have had about Hermione Granger, I knew tonight was not the night.

So instead, I grabbed her hand and led her over to the four post canopy bed on the right, which happened to would have been mine if we had come for our final year. The beds were small, which meant we would have to sleep twined together.

Fine by me.

I pulled back the covers and climbed in, kicking off my shoes. I layed back against the comforting pillows. I crossed my hands behind my head to watch her. Hermione winced as she pulled off my jumper, stained mercilessly with her blood.

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey." I instructed as she glanced down at herself.

"She has a lot more things to worry about then me. It was just a slashing charm. I think she missed her target. I believe she was aiming for my heart. " Hermione said, clearly distracted as she dug through her bag. I opened my mouth to comment when she suddenly stopped moving and pulled her hands up to cover her eyes with a whimper.

"'Mione -" I breathed, reaching out to her.

"I can't believe I killed her. Or that Death Eater. I'm a murderer, Ron. Oh Gods. What did I do?" She whispered, tears staining her voice.

"Hermione Jean Granger" I stopped myself from adding Weasley to the end. Not now. "You are anything but that. You did what you had to do. Hermione. This was a war. They would have killed you. Look at me," I said fiercely, for she had looked away from my glance.

"I don't know what I would have done if I lost you." I whispered and a single tear tolled down her cheek.

"Ron -" She started to say, but I interrupted.

"Hermione, you are not a murderer. You have the purest heart I have ever met in my entire life. It's understandable to feel that way. I felt it the night we got Harry from Privet 4. Do you remember what you told me?" I insisted, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

I grabbed both of her hands and pulled her close so she stood in front of me. All I could see was the violent red on the front of her shirt and I resisted to urge to vomit from the angry nausea that folded my stomach.

"Feeling gulity is what separates you from the Death Eaters." She whispered, clearly reminising like I was.

_I couldn't sleep, no matter how much I wanted to. Me, Ron Weasley, not being able to sleep. It's like a cosmic shift in the universe. _

_I glanced over at Harry, who even in his sleep had a face contorted with stress. I decided to go downstairs and make myself some tea to relax. All the way down the stairs, I moved slowly to avoid the creaking boards and steps that I knew were there. I was geniuely surprised when the light was on in the kitchen downstairs. _

_When I rounded the corner of the staircase, my heart did a gentle thump when I saw Hermione sitting at the kitchen table with a tea cup and book in front of her. _

_"'Mione, what are you doing up so late?" I whispered to her. She glanced up at me and smiled. She must have heard someone coming down the stairs because I didn't surprise her. _

_"I couldn't sleep. I thought some reading would help, but I must have gotten carried away." She said slowly, glancing around at the pitch black windows. __"What time is it anyways?"_

_ "Just after two." I told her, sitting down across from her at the table. _

_"Oh shoot." She sighed, sliding a bookmark in and closing the cover. _

_"What are you reading, anyway? Hogwarts, A History?" I teased, grinning at her. She had her curly hair pulled back behind her shoulder, so one tendril swooped down across her cheek and she reached up to wipe it back. _

_"Ha ha. Very funny. I'm actually reading a Muggle book." She smirked, holding up the cover of a worn hard cover book. I leaned closer to read the title. _

_"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz." I read, suddenly confused. _

_"Muggles write books about wizards?"_

_ "Not our kinds of wizards. Their own make believe ones." She told me, resting the book back down on the table she stood up and moved towards the stove to refill her teacup as she asked me, "Want some?" I nodded. It's like she knew why I came down here._  
><em><br>She was wearing plaid pajamas pants and a black sweatshirt. She looked so adorable in her pj's but she was also incredibly sexy. How on earth can she multi-task like that._

_ "What's this book about?" I asked her as she set a cup down in front of me. She knew how I took my tea, after being friends for so long. She made it so perfectly. _

_"It's about a farmgirl named Dorothy who lives in America. A tornado comes and sweeps her house up into the sky and she lands in the world of Oz." She told me quietly, smiling at my interest. _

_"Oz? Is that in Asia or something?" I inquired, feeling stupid when she laughed. _

_"No Ronald. Oz is a make believe place." She said, her voice gentle and patient. _

_ "Oh, that makes more sense. But whose this wizard fellow?" I asked her. _

_"Well, when she lands in Oz, her house falls down onto the Wicked Witch of the East. And her sister, the Wicked Witch of the West is very upset about it. She immediately tries to kill Dorothy. But the Good Witch of the North comes to where Dorothy is and scares the Wicked Witch off. The Good Witch had given Dorothy a pair of ruby slippers that the Witch of the East, the one who died, was wearing. Now, the only way for Dorothy to get home would be to visit the Wizard of Oz who lives in a city made entirely from emerald. So Dorothy travels along a yellow brick road to get there, all the while trying to avoid the Wicked Witch of the West." _

_"Who are these people she is with on the cover?" I asked her, pointing to the character painted on the worn out leather bound cover. _

_"Well, along the way she meets people who all want a favor from the Wizard. The Scarecrow wants a brain to be smart, the Tinman wants a heart and Cowardly Lion wants courage. They all help Dorothy get to the Emerald City to return home."_

_ "How does it end?" I asked, deeply interested in a world that had elements parallel to our own. I don't know much about the world Hermione was born into, only knowing that she belongs in this world as a brilliant witch. She belongs in this world with me, a wizard. _

_"I'm not telling. You will have to read it to find out Ron." She grinned wickedly at me. _

_"Oh, that's not fair Granger." I sighed playfully and she laughed at me. The sound filled my veins, chasing away the haunting pressure I felt. _

_"Too bad Weasley." She giggles, taking a sip from her tea cup. I notice her studying me over the rim of her cup. I look around the kitchen, trying to ignore her gaze. Hermione is too smart and observant. Plus she knows me too well. She will know something is bothering me. _

_"What's on your mind, Ron?" She says quietly, like she's trying not to scare me off. I open my mouth to lie, but something changes me mind. Hermione is my best friend. She is in the same boat as I am. She won't think badly about me, even though I do. She knows me too well. _

_"I killed somebody tonight, Hermione." I tell her truthfully, feeling the truth of the reality of my words come crashing down around me. I stared down at the table, trying to find my next words. I couldn't look at her, see the disappointment in her eyes. I felt her get up and come around the table to sit on the bench next to me. It was comforting to have her so close. _

_"It's like what Tonks said. I stunned someone off his broom. We were thousands of feet up in the air, there's no way he could survive that fall. I didn't mean too but I didn't know what else to do. I didn't realize that he would die. I didn't realize that he has family and friends. Even if he is a bloody Death Eater, I didn't mean to kill him." My throat began to close halfway though, my breaths heavy. _

_"Ron, we are in the middle of a war." Hermione said comfortingly. "You were trying to rescue your best friend. We all took incredibly sacrafices for Harry tonight. You are not a bad person because of that."_

_ "I know 'Mione, but I still feel so gulity." I told her, my voice cracking. She had a small hand on my arm and she gave me a gentle squeeze as she rubbed my arm. Electric currents shocked my whole body from her touch. _

_"You feel gulity is what separates you from a Death Eater, Ron. I don't want you tearing yourself up. You are a good person Ronald Weasley and you are one of my very best friends. You are the farthest thing from a murderer. You were protecting other people, like Harry and Tonks." She told me, scooting close to me to lean against my shoulder._

_ I let my head fall to rest on the top of her head, sighing in contentment. We stayed like this for a long time, but my heart never slowed. I guess that's what happen when you cuddle with the girl you love. _

_"That makes sense." I mumbled, inhaling the smell of her hair. _

_"It makes total sense." She nodded, pulling away to smile. I tried to hide my disappointment at her distance. _

_"We should go to sleep. It's late and we've all had a long day. I don't want you to keep worrying about this." Hermione told me, brushing my arm again. It was warm from where she had just been resting._

_ "It's okay, I'm alright now 'Mione. I promise." I told her truthfully, gripping her hand tightly for a moment before letting go withoout pushing out boundaries. Our weird, mixed and blurry boundaries._

_ "Okay, come on."_

_ "I think I'm going to stay down here for a while. You go to bed, you're exhusted. I'm fine, Harry's just tossing and turning. I'll wait awhile before I go back. I'm okay, Hermione." I told her truthfully. _

_"Alright." She agreed slowly, watching me carefully as she put her cup in the sink and grabbing her book. She hestitated a moment, looking at me before lowering herself to kiss my forehead. All of my cells burst in my body with excitement and joy. I didn't wipe the grin off my face as she winked and disappeared up the stairs. _

_Only Hermione could make me feel better._

"Your not a murderer Hermione." I whispered, brushing my thumb against the back of her knuckles.

"Okay." She said simply as I reached up to wipe her tears back.

"We should fix you up." I told her, motioning towards her stomach. I summoned the bottle of Dittany out of her bag and patted the bed for her to sit down.

"Ron, I can do it myself." She told me, blushing slightly as I unstopped the bottle.

"Hermione, you did this for me when I was splinched. Let me take care of you for once. Husbands do that, right?" I teased as I gently eased her onto the bed. This was the first mentioning of our marriage since it happened. She didn't squirm or blush like I expected her too. She only smiled slightly and layed down on my command.

My ears turned red as she slowly and hesitantly reached down to lift her shirt over her torso. But embarassment soon turned towards rage at the hidous gash across my love's stomach. It went from right below her bra line (which normally would make me hard to see), past her belly button to right where her jeans hung. I slowly began dropping drops of Dittany in crucial spots, because it was beginning to run out. I didn't look up too see her face because I was too humiliated at my red ears to look at her face.

"Thank you." She whispered, running her fingers through my hair. When I glanced up at her, she caressed me face with her hand and I shivered happily and involuntarily. The blood soaked back into her skin, new flesh covering the wound. A thin pink line rested across her stomach, intermixing with a few white scars that I had never seen before, mainly because I've never seen her stomach this closely.

"Where did you get these?" I mumbled at the discoloration of her naval.

"Dolohov. From the Ministry battle. "She answered simply , suddenly embarassed.

Without thinking and totally mesmerized by her creamy skin, my lips were suddenly placing a gentle kiss on her stomach, just below her belly button. Before I had time to react, I was being pulled into a kiss, this time with her lips.


	3. Doesn't Matter

I woke up in the late afternoon light that glittered around me from the window beside my bed. The curtains were pulled around the bed but a small sliver was open, bringing in the sunshine. Before I opened my eyes however, I tightened my grip around Hermione, who was curled up against my side.

It was amazing how much we were truely intertwined. Every part of my body was touching hers somehow. My head resting against hers, arms around her waist, torso against torso, legs gumbled together. I was at peace. Peace that came crashing down around the little four-poster bed when the horrific thoughts and memories from the dead of yesterday's night came enveloping me into a stunned silence.

Fred. Oh Gods, I'll miss that madman.

Never in my life have I been unsure. A million memories of my beloved brother came back to me at warped speed and I realized I had been taking my brother for granted all of these years. Fred & George. The names were always matched together. Except for the story of Fred turning my teddy into a spider, hence causing my irrational fear. They were always together, two halves of a whole. I never took the time to appreciate each of them separtely. I guess I'll have to know.

Mom could probably tell them apart now. I manuevered my head around the sleeping beauty so the first thing I'd see when I opened my eyes would be her face. The only good thing going for me now.

Holy crap. My wife. We're married. I'm not saying I forgot about that part, because it's a wee bit hard to forget. But still. Wife and Hermione have never been in the same sentence before. Okay, that's a lie. I have thought about it, alot. Once the locket had been destroyed and my thoughts were my own, my potiental future with Hermione was all I had going for me for a significant period of time. My eyelids felt heavy, cracked with dry tears that had caked themselves to my freckled skin all night.

Hermione had said nothing, just holding me against her chest as I cried. I cried for my brothers (all of them, especially George. Even Percy). I cried for Ginny and for Harry. I cried for my mom and dad. I cried for my wife, who was crying along with me into my hair. I cried for Teddy Lupin, because he will never grow up to know his parents.

After we shared the most perfect kiss, I went to the bathroom while she changed. Coming out of the lavatory and seeing Hermione propped up against the pillows, under the covers of the bed we'd share together ... breathtaking. She was dirty and bloody but now in a clean pair of pajamas she wasn't a soldier anymore. She was a exhusted girl whom I loved more then life itself. My eyes flushed and my heart has started beating faster as I walked towards her and hesitated gently before climbing in next to her.

And we cried.

Romantic, yes?

Her face was beyond peaceful in sleep. Her bottom lip was already healing it's cut. Her eyes were swollen, one looking like she's almost been punched. Her hair was a tangled mess of curls. She was dirty but unbelievably gorgeous. I propped myself up onto my elbow, brushing a wayward curl behind her ear so I had a better visual of her face. She looked very young in sleep, engulfed in peaceful oblivion. She had been having bad nightmares at Shell Cottage, but now... Perfectly asleep. That's odd you'd think they elevate after last night.

I don't know how long I watched her, thinking of all of life's important questions. What will happen to our marriage? Our families? Her parents were still in Austrailia and she will need to get them. It's been almost a full year since she had seen her family. Her strength is empowering. What about Harry? I don't even want to think about his reaction to this ...

My stomach's loud and ferocious cry of hunger ripped through the peaceful silent bubble we were engulfed in. My ears reddened when I saw Hermione's face turn up into a smile. I knew she was awake even if her eyes remained closed. She let out a small laugh.

"You laughing at me?" I said quietly into her ear, practically inaudible. I smiled when she nodded. "Wake up pretty girl." I murmured, embarassed at me own affection. She blinked open her creamy milk chocolate eyes and I fell into a deep and restful heaven.

"Good morning." She mumbled, blinking back sleep. "Or afternoon, I guess I should say."

"I wonder what time it is." I mused as she pulled back slightly to stretch her muscles as I talked.

"Oh man, I'm so sore. Are you too?" She grumbled, looking up at me.

"Now that I think about it, yes. Especially my arms and shoulders." I told her truthfully, feeling the extremely numbing pain in my neck and shoulders.

"It's from all of the dueling and spellwork. Come here." Hermione smiled at me slightly, pulling me until I sat up and face the end of the bed. She climbed behind me and my whole body force with anticipation. Her hands came up onto my shoulder, tugging and kneading away the aches and pains.

She was giving me a massage. I quickly thanked the heavens for falling in love with her, especially since she had amazing physical therapy techniques. I moaned happily while I closed my eyes and I heard her tinkling laugh behind me.

"Thank you." I breathed at her, content and full of ease as she worked on my neck and shoulders through my shirt.

"Your welcome." She breathed back just as quietly. We sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, but both of us were on edge. So many questions bubbling to our lips, so many emotions draining of us life. The only sound I could make out were our breathing and her hands working along the fabric of my shirt.

"How are you, Ron?" She asked me a few moments later, pulling me from all of my inner battles.

"Honestly, I'm not sure." I told her, leaning back into her touch.

"How can I help you?" Hermione pleaded, twirling a lock of my hair between her fingers. A shiver ran through my spine. I thought about her question for a moment because I wanted to answer it truthfully. I twisted out of her grasp so I could turn and face her. She looked at me, exhustion and worry hanging from every inch of her.

"You want the truth?" I asked her, distracting her for a moment. She just nodded, looking at me with confusion as I looked down at the tangled bed sheets in confusion.

"Let me kiss you. Holding you and kissing you will fix me right up." I couldn't look up at her, in case rejection or revulsion was in her eyes. What if she was already changing her mind? What if regret for our hurried matrimony disgusted her? What if she did it out of pity, thoughts of death on her mind?

I felt her shift in the bed and for a horrific moment, I thought she was leaving. But her finger reached under my stubbly chin to tilt my face towards her. She was kneeling in front of me with a smile on her face. She leaned into me and I closed my eyes hopefully.

"I can do that." She whispered against my lips before kissing me. I immediately responded, feeling like she had spoken a thousand answers. I leaned forward so we were both kneeling on the bed, facing each other and curled around each other. Our lips worked in perfect schronization, like a tango. I opened my mouth the same time she did, our tongues meeting in the middle.

Part of me wanted to jump up in excitement, running around the castle screaming "HERMIONE IS KISSING ME! AH!" But, I was more then content where I was right now. I had my arms so tightly around her tiny waist, for sure I was crushing her. But she didn't complain or seem fazed. Her arms were around my neck, in my hair. A moan passed from my mouth to hers. Surely this wasn't crossing any lines, seeing as how we were technically married. Her skin was like warm porclein under my rough and calloused finger tips.

Our kissing became more frenzied and rushed, passion fueling both of us. Man, I'm in heaven. Her arms moved down, to caress my chest underneath my shirt. I shivered violently with pleasure and I could feel the smile on her lips. I was growing so hard and I had to do something.

Without breaking our kiss, I grabbed her in my arms, raising her off the bed and turning so I could lay back on the pillows. I was preparing myself in case she pulled away, but after she situated herself lying atop of me, her kissing increased in intensity.

How is this possible? Am I awake? Am I dreaming? Did I die? Am I in heaven? Is she in heaven with me? Did everything within the last few weeks actually happen or are we really our homey tent? How the HELL am I in the horizontal position with Hermione? Two days ago I was terrified to touch her. Now Ron Jr. was growing with frenzied passion and I knew she could for sure feel it.

Her lips were warm, smooth and excited. Perfect bliss accompanied each one of our breaths. I have no idea how long we lay there, never coming up for air. She was alive and I was alive and there was grief and pain, but also much to celebrate. Like the fact that we were alive and together. My hand ventured over the skin on the small of her back, creeping under her shirt. She didn't protest she I moved higher and higher. I felt the back strap of her bra.

Holy crap. I've never gone this far, not even with Lavender. She continued to not stop me, or even halt in her kissing. Was her lack of interruption my green light, as the Muggle expression go?

A moan and creak of bedspring sounded somewhere from our right. Hermione and I both froze. Are we not alone like we thought?

"Shh." She breathed, pulling away from my face and holding a finger to her lips, which were red and puffy from my kisses. She moved back the curtain slowly, poking her head out. Her body still layed parallel with me, curving away and around the curtain. She caused a beautiful friction again my hardness and I surpressed a moan.

"Harry." She cringed, pulling back to look at me.

"Shit!" I moaned, looking out as she held the curtain open for me. Sure enough, there was Harry. He was passed out on the bed next to us, on top of the curtains, fully dressed with even his shoes and glasses still on. He had drool on his chin and was snoring peacefully. Hermione giggled.

"And he thought I always interrupted him!" I exclaimed, causing her to laugh more. I put a hand over her mouth as I chuckled to myself, as not to wake him.

"Shh. He's had a rough seventeen years. Let him sleep." I chuckled and she nodded, humor still in her eyes. She readjusted herself so she aligned with my body once more, propped up on her elbows to look at me. I could only imagine how dreamy and secure my stupid face looked. And of course, my stomach rumbles again.

"Let's get you some food." She smiled at me, patting my stomach and sitting up. I frowned.

"Yes, I am hungry. So come back here and satisfy my appetite." I demanded playfully, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulled her down on me once more. She giggled wildly, in a very un-Hermione-ish way and I laughed louder. I pressed my lips to hers forceibly but her mouth was curved into a wide grin. Bliss.

"Ron!'' She protested with a small laugh, weakly trying to push on my shoulders.

"Be quiet, you'll wake Harry!" I told her with an authoritative chuckle. She kissed me back for a moment but my stomach was not agreeing with me. All the flip-flopping it was doing with Hermione only increased my food-deprived stomach. It was approaching twenty-four hours since I last ate. My Weasley stomach did not appreciate this.

"Come on, let's go find everybody." She told me, kissing my lips once more and pulling back the curtain, leaving me laying in my bed hard and lonely. She stood at the nightstand, rifling through her bloody beaded bag. I got up, feeling my muscles groan in protest. I came up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and peering over her shoulder.

When we were at Shell Cottage, our touching had increased dramatically. I was terrified to let her out of my sight and she was terrifed to be alone, so it was a win/win. We would sit on the beach all the time, curled around each other to keep warm from the breeze coming off the ocean. At the time, it was friendship that desperately wanted to be more. Now, it was comfortable.

My, how things change in a few days.

She pulled out clothes for me, passing them to me before pulling some out of her own.

"This bag saved our lives this year." I whispered in her ear, glancing over to make sure we didn't disturb Harry. She leaned back into my embrace, nodding distantly.

"I'm going to take a shower." She told me, twisting out of my hold and walking towards the loo, but not before kissing my cheek. What is this girl doing to me, sending ripples through my spine? I snorted when Harry flung a arm over the side of the bed, looking like a starfish as I followed Hermione into the bathroom.

I could hear the water running from the stall closest to the wall. Desire engulfed me at the thought of a naked Hermione. There were five shower stalls, with a red curtain emblonized with the Gryffindor lion. I stepped into the one closest to the door, far away from her to not make her uncomfortable. I peeled off my bloody, dirty, fried and torn clothes, tossing them back out to land on the floor. I rested my new clothes atop of a fluffy towel resting on a shelf above the water spout.

The hot water melted away the stress and grime embedded in my skin. The Hogwarts shampoo and soap mounted on the wall brought back a swirl of memories.

Steam engulfed me but the more I thought about Hermione -in the shower and a few feet away from me- I turned the nozzle to add colder water .

I heard her water shut off and a few moments passed before the rumble of the curtain sounded and she stepped out. I quickly followed, not wanting to be parted from her for long. I dried off quickly, changing into the jeans and Chudley Channons shirt she gave me. It no longer gave me the creeps to think that she had seen my underwear.

When I stepped out of the shower, Hermione was standing at the sink, brushing out her wet hair. She was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a red Gryffindor shirt. She smiled into the mirror when she saw my reflection. I shook my wet hair out, towel drying it. This whole routine seemed strangely relaxing, not horribly awkward like one would expect.

"So." I said casually, hopping up to counter.

"So," She responded playfully in the same tome.

"What are we going to do, Hermione?" I asked her in a husky voice that betrayed me.

"I don't know Ron." She came to stand in front of me, resting her hands on my knees. I layed my huge-man hands over her tiny female ones. Her hair was already beginning to curl around in perfect watery ringlets.

"Everything will work out in the end." I told her, trying to make myself sound as truthful as possible.

She responded with, "The castle needs rebuliding."

"Doesn't matter." I told her protectively, shaking my head.

"There will be funerals." She told me quietly, curious to my reaction to this truthful statement. My mind flashed to Fred, but I know he's up in heaven somewhere shouting "THEY'VE FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT, THOSE BLOODY LUNATICS" and complaining that he will never be able to claim his winning bets against George about Hermione and mine's relationship. He'd want me to be happy.

"There will be." I simply said.

"And your family will begin to get curious about us."

"Doesn't matter, let them." I said straight out.

"But we need figure out what to do with our limbo relationship." She told me, narrowing her eyes with worry.

"Right now, doesn't matter." I wanted to grin at how she has to over-analyze everything. For once, she doesn't need to worry about the future, it's all wide open now.

"I need to get my parents from Austrailia." Her voice grew quieter on this statement.

"I know, we'll figure it out." I told her, keeping each response light, hopeful and simple.

"We need to find jobs." She reminded me and I grimaced, tightening my hold on her hands.

"Doesn't. Matter." I said choppily, enunciating each word.

"And I am currently homeless." Hermione said in her eggbert voice.

"Burrow." Was all I responded with a smile. I caught the sight of a small grin on her lips and I leaned down to kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"So, if none of those other worries matter, what exactly does?" She demanded with a smile, stepping back to put her hands on her hips in her "Hermione" pose, cocking her head and staring at me with her "I'm waiting" look.

"The fact that you know I love you and we're together." I mumbled, suddenly embarassed at my declaration as I ducked my head to stare at the tiled floor. Hermione's tiny bare feet came back into my view and her tiny finger stroked my stubly chin until she lifted my head up to look at her. Her eyes were wide and warm, full of a love I had just noticed was there. But she's been looking at me like that for years. I'm an idiot.

"That does matter." She smiled, stretching up on her tiptoes to press her lips to mine gently.

I moaned playfully as she pulled away, opening my eyes slowly. "I'll never get used to that. Doesn't get old."

"I hope not," She told me with a small laugh before growing more serious. "Are we going to tell people?" She asked quietly, lifting her head to look at me.

"I'm not sure. Maybe we should wait until things calm down." I mumbled lamely.

"Yeah, wait until things calm down. But after we have ... everything eh - talked out, I think Harry should be the first person we tell." Hermione told me, her cheeks sort of pink. I nodded, in complete agreement. I looked down at her, brushing a wet strand behind her ear. Her face was clean and shiny from the shower, only minor pointers that prove she just fought in a war.

We walked together back out by the bed before slipping on some shoes and grabbing our wands. 'Mione laughed when Harry grumbled in his sleep. I rolled my eyes. She walked over and untied his shoes, letting them both drop to the floor. She carefully peeled his glasses off his face, resting them on the night stand and pulled the blanket up around him.

Jealously no longer ragged my stomach as she kissed his forehead sisterly.

"Our best friend." She snorted, grabbing my hand. I leaned down with a smile to kiss he gently.

"Damn stomach." I moaned, listening to it growl painfully again. The sun looked to be close to setting out of the window in the dormitory. I was in desperate need for dinner.

"Come on Mr. Weasley, let's get you something to eat before you starve." She teased, pulling me towards the doorway.

I hesitated for a moment before replying, "Okay... Mrs. Weasley."

* * *

><p><strong>R.E.V.I.E.W + R.E.V.I.E.W + R.E.V.I.E.W = HAPPY MORGAN :)<strong>

**Up next, they head home to the Burrow and have that long-awaited talk they keep grumbling about! **

**I RECOMMEND READING MY OTHER STORY "MENTAL CONGA LINE" BEFORE YOU READ THE NEXT CHAPTER (in case you haven't) BECAUSE EVERYTHING WILL MAKE A LOT MORE SENSE. I'M TRYING TO PULL A "SARAH DESSEN" AND HAVE ALL OF MY STORIES INTERCONNECT AND HAPPEN AROUND EACH OTHER SO ... READ AND REVIEW! **

**thank you. danke schön. muchas gracias. merci. **


	4. Chinese Libraries and Ginger Children

**READ "MENTAL CONGA LINE FIRST" ... or that's recommended. IT WILL MAKE MORE SENSE! **

The Burrow was unusually quiet. There wasn't the pots and pans banging in the kitchen, the rock music coming from Bill's room or the occasional explosion coming from the twin's. Even Pig was strangely calm and "un"-fluttery in his cage. Everything was too at peace which created disary in the Weasley household.

My room looks the same, cleaner then before. Mom must have put the ghoul back upstairs and cleaned after we were discovered at Malfoy Manor and my family went into hiding at Muriel's.

My ceiling is what has capitivated my attention. I've been counting the the knicks in the paint for over an hour. Seventeen, if your interested. How the hell did I scratch my ceiling that many times. Hitting my head, sure. Waving my broom around carelessly. I'm sure I could tally the results.

I'm waiting for Hermione. Okay, let me make that more clear. I've been waiting for Hermione for seven years, but this is different. She is downstairs helping Fleur clean up and she promised to come up to meet me so we could ...talk.

Insert gulp of terror here.

It's coming. The break-up talk. The "we were stupid and in the middle of a war" talk. The same talk using lines like "We're too young" and a catch phrase or two of "It would never work."

All the opposite of what I want.

The past three days since the Battle were spent restoring the castle, dispersing the dead Death Eaters bodies to whoever came to claim them. Voldemort's body was planned to be burned. Mom and Dad were in hiding with George most of the day making arrangements for Fred.

Hermione and I were always together, inseparable. We went everywhere together. We got up together, took showers side by side like after the battle, walked around the castle doing odd jobs together. Meals were spent with my brothers, Harry and Ginny. And then off again to bed to snuggle with Hermione.

Always touching, that was the most important thing.

I couldn't let her out of my sight.

If she was, for a mere matter of moments, terror would set in. Death Eaters were still on the lose, we weren't out of the clear just yet. We were not ready to say goodbye, I still wanted another eighty years for that.

So we stuck together like glue. We hadn't kissed since our snog the morning after the battle. This didn't feel okay. Now that I had finally kissed Hermione Granger after seven years, I didn't want to ever stop.

This morning, however, she woke up before me. Being the saint that she is, she wanted me to sleep longer because she was worried about my current state of sanity. When I awoke, I couldn't feel her body next to mine and I flew out of bed only to be encountered by a note.

_Ron, _

_ I might be back before you read this, but if you're awake, I'm sorry. Ginny woke me up this morning to lend me some clothes and I couldn't fall back asleep. You looked so peaceful, I couldn't dare wake you. You need your rest. Please, don't worry about me or think I've been kidnapped. I'm going down to the hospital wing to help Madam Pomfrey with some of the patients. She has help from St. Mungo's Healers, but I feel like I must do something. You don't need to come storming the hospital to come find me, I'm alright. I promise. I also know you will not go back to sleep if you read this, even if I inisist. We're leaving later on this morning so I won't be long. _

_ I love you, you git. _

_ Hermione. _

I take a moment to study her hand-writing. It wasn't slanted like mine, or almost unreadable, like Harry's. It was stick straight like Percy's or overly bubbly like Ginny's. All the letters were curly and precise in her perfect cursive, like they were placed in the exact point she wanted them to be. For a long moment, I stare at the way she wrote my name in the introduction.

The capital "R" is round and curvy, breaking off for a moment before it is spun into the perfect oval of an "o". The "n" has a little wing at the tip from where she lifted her quill, a little dash of ink before the comma.

I focus on the words before she signs her name. "I love you, you git." I could hear her saying that in my head. The "love" is what I stare at most. The perfect rhythm of the flow of her hand is visible on the parchment. She wrote the whole word in one easy swoop of the wrist.

As I'm analyzing the way she writes her name, I notice something particularly amusing. I know Hermione was named after some character in some Muggle poet's story, some Shakespeare guy, but I can't help but feel that it's NOT a coincidence her parents decided to name her that. As I'm looking at the spelling of her name. H-E-R-M-I-O-N-E. If you look carefully, my name is spelled within her name. h-e-R-m-i-O-N-e. You can't spell her name without mine.

Ah ha. Solid proof we were meant to be together.

Of course, after this I could not fall back asleep. I had become so accustomed over the past three nights to curving around Hermione's body that my bed felt too cold and big without her in it. I paced a little, took a shower, went down to the Great Hall for breakfast, chatted with Neville and Hagrid and helped restore charms on the Astronomy Tower.

I was beyond relieved when my mother found me.

"Oh, Ron sweetie, we're heading home now. Professor McGonagall has her office Floo hooked up to the Burrow. Bill and Fleur have been over there all day making it ready." She told me in a brisk voice, forcing a smile and gripping my head. She paused for a moment and looked around before adding, "Where's Hermione? You two have been attached at the hip."

"She's helping Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing." I told, feeling smug for some reason.

Mum smiled. "Oh, that girl. I love her dearly. Please be a doll and go get her for us so we can all head home." She left with a smile before I could even respond. My feet carried me very quickly towards the hospital wing.

It was still early, only about nine o'clock. I couldn't believe I was up so early, since the sun was barely warm yet.

Horror washed my body when I saw Hermione sitting with ... gulp ... Lavender Brown. I got chills from just thinking her name.

Were they telling secrets about me? Swooping my herendous kissing tatics? Was Hermione gagging to her old dorm mate about me? I tried to be ask polite as possible, but I couldn't really look at Lavender in the eye. Bill's scars I was used to, but Lavender's ...they were fresh and red.

"What did she want?" I demanded as soon as Hermione emerged from the wing a few moments after she sent me to the Common Room. She smiled when she say me, like she knew I wouldn't go that far without her.

"She was thanking me and apologizing." She said simply, reaching for my hand. When I began to protest, she put a finger to my mouth and leaned in closely. "I'll tell you all about it later."

Well, it was later and I'm still bloody curious.

I can finally understand why Hermione throws herself into occupying herself so much. I've never seen her just sit and think. She's always doing something, keeping herself busy. She does it to occupy her own thoughts, keep her mind was straying away. She moves her deeper, more complex or dark thoughts out of the way to be dealt with later.

This could also be why she breaks down at random moments, but it keeps her strong. That's why she's the most level headed out of our Trio, the most calm in a crisis. Because she can change her thought-waves in a blink of an eye.

I realize that I'm thinking to much so I'm going back to "occupying" myself with my ceiling. My counting reaches twenty-one before I thankfully hear my door open softly, a quiet knock on the door.

"Hey." I said quietly, smiling up at her as she walked in.

"Hi there." She grins softly, sitting down at the foot of my bed. "What are you doing?"

I scooch over and pat the bed next to me, waiting for her to lay down with me. "Counting all of the scratches and marks on my ceiling."

"That sounds utterly fasinating." Her sarcarm is apparent. She laughs and lays her head down onto my chest, wrapping an arm around my waist to give me a squeeze.

"There are over twenty, in case your interested." I smirked at her, but she couldn't really see.

"Oh, well, thank you." She mumbled, uninterested. There was a long, quiet, and slightly awkward moment before she moved out of my embrace to sit and face me, curling her knees up to her face and brushing a loose curl behind her ear.

She was wearing a pair of jeans that were too long on her (probably Ginny's) and one of my old long-sleeved Quidditch shirts from Hogwarts. The sleeves were entirely too long, but she tugged the fabric futhur down her wrists until she could curl the material in her little fingers, resting them on her knees so she could look at me. Let me tell you how much of a fucking turn-on it was to see her wearing my clothes. Her meticulously curled curls are pulled back into a loose ponytail. The glow from the early evening sun casts a honey glow across her warm skin.

"We have to talk about it, Ron." She said this very quietly, like a coo or a murmur to a tiny baby.

"Do we have to?" I whine, curling around my pillow so I had to look at her out of the corner of my mind. She nudges me with her foot as she laughs.

"Yes, you goof. We have to. You know it."

"I know," I tell her, rolling onto my back and scooting down a wee bit so she is situated right next to my chest in the little ball she has positioned herself in. She leans against me.

"You start," she grumbles, smiling slightly.

"No way. You wanted to talk," I remind her. She moans and rocks her head back like she does when she is frustrated, but I know she is simply teasing me.

" I don't know how to ... how to ... broach, the subject." She finally stumbled out.

"I don't either." When I was suddenly struck with an ingenius idea. "Why don't we just ask each other questions? Things we want to know. That could probably get a conversation going. "

"Okay, that seems like a good idea." Hermione agreed with a gentle nod of her head.

"You still have to go first." I added quickly and she shook her head, feigning grumpiness. I smiled at her wearily, anxious.

"Ron, " She breathes my name and it sends shivers running up and down my spine. "Do you regret it?"

She says it so quietly, it is practically inaudible. She's not looking at me, focusing her eyes on a small piece of thread coming loose from my shirt's sleeve. She twirls it between her slim fingers.

"No. Do I regret how it happened? Yes. I wish it wouldn't have been so rushed." I answered truthfully watching her nod. I realized it was my turn to reciprocate so I think about what I want to ask her. "How did you always want your dream wedding to happen?"

She smiles to herself and admits in a rather hesitant yet cocky tone,"I already had a dream wedding."

I had to snort here.

"Oh yes, I'm sure the spells and blood gave it a real romantic touch."

"I already had a dream wedding," she says again in a small defeated voice, "because I had a wedding to you."

This gave me a wee bit of a shock . She still was refusing to look at me, so I sat up and reluctantly took both of her hands in mine.

"Do you mean that?" I asked, ducking my head to catch of a glimpse of her beautiful brown eyes that were the same shade of my favorite Honeyduke's chocolate.

"Of course," she whispered, chancing a glance at me, but hesitated for a moment before responding with, "You asked two questions in a row, you cheat. It's my turn."

"Oh yeah, I guess I did. Okay then, have at it," I mumbled lamely.

"If you love me, why have you never told me how you've felt? If we've been friends for so long, how come you never told me?"

"How come you never told me?" I shot back at her, before lowering my voice. I sat up to grab my wand off my nightstand and sent a Silencing Charm towards my door, so no one could hear what we were talking about. No one can know until we know ourselves.

"Hey, I asked you first Ronald," Hermione snapped at me, checking the door herself as if checking to make sure that I had cast the charm correctly. Or perhaps she was just looking for any excuse to not look at me. I had no idea what expression was on my face, but it couldn't have been a pleasant one.

I felt ...numb. I couldn't feel anything other then this sharp pain in my chest from the rejection that was on the horizon. I couldn't take this serious rejection, not from Hermione.

This made me mad. That's when I snapped.

"What do you want me to say 'Mione? That I've had feelings for you since fourth year? Oh, what about the fact that Harry was getting us close to killed a handful of times each year?" I demanded, pushing myself off the bed and storming towards the window.

"Fourth year? You've had feelings for me for close to four years and you've never said anything?" Hermione questioned from my bed. The sun was a creamy orange over the tree tops outside my windows.

"Well I could ask you the same question? How long have you known?" My voice was hoarse.

"You never answered my original question. How come you never told me, Ron? There have been more then enough chances," The desperation in Hermione's voice was heartbreaking.

"I don't know Hermione," I mumbled, leaning my back against the wall and sinking to the floor. "You have no idea how many times I wanted to say something. I just didn't think you felt the same way."

"You seriously thought I had never felt the same way?" Hermione whispered.

"That's two questions in a row. Technically, it's my turn," I reminded her. She sighed, frustrated, but didn't say anything else. This was her way of giving clearance to me. "How come you never said anything?"

"I guess the same reasons as you. I was scared. You scared me," she said so quietly, I barely heard her.

"How did I scare you?" I questioned. "I know that's a question but I'm just asking for clarification."

"My feelings for you scared me. The intensity of them, especially when we were in the tent. We were in the middle of a war and I didn't know if we were to make it out alive. But I also didn't want to die without you knowing. I was in love with my best friend and it scared me. I didn't know how to go about handling it, so it gave me quite a fright." Her words came out shaky.

"What about at Hogwarts?" I breathed, knowing that I was taking up another chance for her to ask a question. She didn't notice.

"I didn't know what to do. You seemed so hot and cold with me sometimes. I knew I had feelings for you, "Hermione told me, tugging on a loose thread, this time on my Chudley Cannons blanket. She seemed to be talking to herself. "Feelings that were different from Harry."

"Did you ever have feelings for Harry?" I said in a quiet breath, taking up her turn again.

"No," She told me, without any hesitation. She now looked up, meeting my eyes. "It was always you, Ron. Always you."

My insides melted. They instantly all turned to goo. My bones felt mushy and my blood was pounding in my ears. Ever cell in my body was popping like a firework, all out of pure joy.

"It's my turn," Hermione pulled me out of my inner celebration. "This may sound completely random, I've always just been curious. I've literally layed awake at night, trying to figure it out and I can't." This made me guarded.

"Okay, shoot."

"In sixth year, right after you had a certain Quidditch practice, you got mad at me. You came back with Harry and you were particularly cross with me for a few days. I always wanted to ask you, but then you starting snogging that blonde tramp and we didn't talk for months so I never got to really ask you why you were mad at me. It's always bothered me." I had to smile at Hermoine when she called Lavender a "blonde tramp" with such ease, but she didn't see me. I was still slumped against the wall, my arms resting on my bent knees and Hermione still sat on my bed.

A voice in my head immediately told me to lie, to tell her that I didn't remember why I was mad, even though I remembered quite clearly. But this was my wife. I needed to tell her the truth.

"I saw Ginny snogging Dean in a corridor. I blew up at her and she started fighting back. She told me that you had snogged Viktor Krum and that I was the only inexperienced one. Which is also why I snogged Lavender, by the way," I added quickly. "I had a feeling you would ask that evantually. I didn't love her, I didn't have any feelings for her really. She was the only girl who had really shown any interest in me and I was mad at you for kissing someone other than me."

"Ron, I didn't snog Viktor," Hermione said quickly, slidding off the bed to kneel before me. "Honest."

"You didn't snog?" I asked her, skeptical.

"He pecked me on the lips the night of the Yule Ball but it honestly wasn't that memorable."

"He pecked you?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, it was nothing,"She promised, resting her hands on my arms as they slung across my knees. Her tiny hands gripped my wrists lightly and I smiled slightly to myself.

"Define a peck," I insisted and she snorted. She raised up on her knees, in between my spread knees and bent her face towards me.

Before I could even register what happened, her lips "pecked" mine oh so slightly before she rested back against her legs. She was gone before I could kiss her back.

"There. Honestly, it was nothing to me. Maybe he was nervous or I just didn't respond and that made him feel bad, but it was probably one of the worst kisses ever." Her eyebrow was raised at my stunned expression.

She was so close, right in front of me as I sat propped underneath my bedroom window, which was open and letting in the early evening purple sun. She smelled so good, like vanilla and cherries.

"Why don't you show me a better kiss then?" My husky voice gave away the intensity of the moment I was suddenly feeling, looking straight into her beautiful eyes. She reached up, taking my chin between two fingers and guiding my face back to hers. Her lips were so incredibly soft and responsive, my insides melted again.

This was our first real kiss since the morning after the battle and three days of Hermione withdrawal had not been good for me. My knees lowered and straightened themselves on the floor and Hermione immediately caught my notions, readjusting her knees to the outside of my legs and shifting forward so she was stradling my lap, her perfect bum resting on my thighs.

Dear God, help me.

Her kiss was so infectious, making my mind reel, my heart pound and my stomach hurt with how much I wanted her. Her one hand rested along my neck, cupping my throat in her small hand. Her other fingers were threaded in my hair at the base of my throat.

"We're supposed to be talking," Hermione breathed as we pulled apart for just a moment. I refused for her to get distracted, however. I moved my lips to her jawline, planting kisses sweetly along her chin and neck. My hand moved up her back to tangled themselves in her curls, securing her face from moving ANYWHERE away from mine.

"I like this form of communication better," I mumbled against her skin. We were both panting heavily.

"Ron -"

"Don't think so much 'Mione. Just feel," I begged, pulling back from the warm skin above her pulse point to look at her. I barely had time to make eye-contact with her before her mouth was back on my. Her tongue was in my mouth, mine in hers.

The moment was so perfect, so timeless. It didn't matter my brother had just died or we were married and this was our third real kiss. What mattered was that we were here and it was all so perfect.

She pulled on my shirt, leaning back until she was laying against my hardwood floors, which were surprisingly clean, thanks to my mum. I layed myself above her, propping myself up on both my hands so I wouldn't crush her. Our lips never stopped their vicious tango. Her breath was sweet, tasting like coffee and the chocolate cream pie Fleur had made for dessert.

This is not happening, Hermione and I aren't snogging on my bedroom floor in the horizontal position. This is just too good to be true. It felt too good when her hands roamed underneath my t-shirt, caressing my back and chest with such soft touches they felt like tickles. My eyes opened in disbelief as I felt her tugging the shirt higher and higher until I broke away from her and she pulled it off my head, tossing it behind her.

"'Mione -" I began but her hand was in my hair and she brought my face back to her, effectively shutting me up.

Bloody hell. Bloody hell this feels so good. There was now an uncomfortable pitch in my jeans, surely brushing against her thigh, she had to feel it. Her hands were everywhere. My arms, my chest, my back, my stomach. God, it felt good.

My own bloody hand shook, but I knew where it was gravitating to before I could stop it. It went underneath my shirt which she wore. I wanted to cry at how soft her skin was on her stomach, her sides. My left arm was starting to seriously hurt from supporting all of my weight as my other hand explored. The shirt began to rise, higher and higher, exposing inch after beautiful inch of the creamiest and smoothest skin I've ever felt/seen in my entire life. When a purple lacey bra came into my line of vision quickly, my excitement peaked.

"We should stop." The statement came questionably and weakly, in her mumbled breath.

My hopes came crashing down around me.

"Technically, we're not doing anything wrong. We're married," I reminded her in a husky tone. I didn't want to pressure her, but I didn't want her to forget that it was technically okay.

"I know, I know. Ugh." She groaned and I pulled my hand out from under her shirt, giving her one last kiss before I leaned back against the wall in my previous position, this time without a shirt on.

"What's on your mind, Hermione?" I asked her as she sat up and leaned against the back of my bed so she could face me. Her leg touched mine.

"It's feels so normal, doesn't it? A few days ago, we couldn't brush fingers without us blushing and now we're snogging shirtless on your bedroom floor and it feels so freakishly perfect and simple," she said in a defeated tone.

"I know. It feels bloody good, is what it feels," I told her. Hermione laughed, her glorious little laugh and I smiled.

"You're right, it's just most couples don't share a war with their wedding night."

"This is true," I nodded in agreement.

"It's just that ..." She drifted off into thought.

"What, Hermione? It's just that?" I breathed, letting my finger drag across the bottom of her socked foot. I grinned when she squirmed.

"I don't know how to handle being . . . naked in front of you," she breathed, hanging her eyes to look at my floorboards.

This threw me off guard, I wasn't sure how to respond.

"Hey," I breathed, scooting closer to her as I saw tears blur her beautiful brown eyes. She turned her head farthur away, a blanket of her curls falling in front of her face. I brushed them back behind her ear. "Don't hide from me, please."

It was odd, hearing such a gentle phrase and action come from myself, but it was easy to be calm around Hermione. We had been getting close and touchy-feely since our nights at Shell Cottage. Silent glances across the dinner table, quiet walks along the coast, cuddles along the rocks, calming words spoken in the dead of night. It felt so natural.

She turned her face to look at me.

"God," I breathed, taking in her tear struggled face with a desperate expression.

"What?" She questioned, immediately self-conscious.

"You're so beautiful," I told her with a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes. "I'm serious."

She snorted and that upset me.

"Stop it. You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." I told her truthfully.

"That's a lie. Your sister-in-law is part veela." She stated in her bookworm tone.

"So? Fleur is beautiful but not like you," I said, leaning in playfully. "I like brunettes."

Hermione laughed, and the mood immediately felt lighter. She looked at me in a false frustration. I knew she hated it when I made her laugh when she was mad at me, or in the mood to fight.

"Hermione, please don't be ashamed to let me tell you how beautiful you are. How much I love your kisses and you curly hair." I twirled a lock between my fingers. "How much I love your body and your smell."

"What do I smell like?" She asked.

"I'm not sure I can exactly pin-point was it is. But like vanilla, flowers and books. If it's possible to smell like books, that's what it is," She grinned and rolled her eyes again.

"Do you wanna hear a secret?" She whispered in a playful tone. I nodded eagerly because I loved secrets.

"In sixth year Potions, during Slughorn's first class, I smelled you in the love potion," She told me, with a look on her face that told me that she felt silly. My eyes widened with excitement.

"Really?" I demanded with a laugh and she nodded.

"Mhmm."

"That's bloody brilliant!"

"Ron, honestly. Language. We've gotten off topic. We're supposed to be talking about our marriage."

Of course. I'd forgotten.

"Hermione, wizards marry for life," I breathed. "There are ways to get divorces through the Ministry, but it's a long and eventful process. It takes years, longer now that the Ministry is scrambling to fix itself. When someone performs the spell, it's meant to life."

"I know. I read all about it," She told me and I had to smile.

"When did you have time to read about wizarding weddings? I haven't seen you reading within the past few days," I demanded, unsurprised that she was already immersed in Wizarding culture, even if I had an eleven year head-start.

"Before Bill and Fleur's wedding, to distract myself from all the memory charm books I was reading," she whispered, her voice faltering. I knew we were heading off the beaten path we were supposed to be discussing, but I had to ask.

"Hermione, your parents are safe now. When do you want to go to Austrailia?"

"Soon. Once things calm down," was her immediate answer.

"I'm coming with you."

"Ron, I love you for that, but you're needed here. Your family needs you now, you can't just abandon them to go on a mission with me." Her voice held a "Don't mess with me" tone.

I chose to ignore it.

"Hermione, you honestly think I'll just let you go galavanting off by yourself across the globe. With Death Eaters still on the lose?" My voice was rising, so I'm glad I cast the charm.

"Ron, this is something I have to do alone."

"Hermione, your my wife, for God's sake!" I yelled, pushing myself off the wall to stand. We always agree better standing.

"I was there Ronald, but in case you haven't noticed we've been married for only seventy hours and we have no clue how to act like husband and wife. We don't know how to be married!" Hermione shot back, standing up to face me.

"So you leaving for Merlin knows how long is a good way to start the newlywed phase?"

"Ron, we don't know how to do this. Nobody knows! Except Kingsley! You can't come with me. Your mum, Ginny, Harry, GEORGE. They need you and I need to be with my parents. Whom I haven't seen in almost a year. WHO HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE I EVEN EXIST," Hermione screamed, shaking with anger and pain. Her voice clouded over the swear and she lost all her steam as tears clouded her eyes.

"Hermione," I breathed, defeated the second I made her cry. "This is exactly the reason why I need to go with you. I can't let you do something this important by yourself. I would be too worried about you and I know you need me there as much as I need to be with you."

"Love, it will be hard enough to explain whats been happening this past year. Plus the last three days. I need you there, I do. I want you there, honest. But I have to go by myself. We've been gone so long, your mum would be devastated if you left her."

That was a low blow, and she knew it.

"Hermione, I can't let you go alone. I just lost my brother, the idea of losing you too..." My voice caught in my throat and I turned away from her as tears clouded my vision.

"Oh Ron," she sighed, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind and pressing her face into my back, between my shoulder blades.

"I can't let you go," I mumbled, turning around in her arms to hold her close to my chest. "Fred, dear Merlin, Fred's gone. Not you too."

"Fred wants you to be happy," Hermione whispered into my neck, kissing my jawline. She led me back to my bed and set me down, kneeling on the ground before me.

"How can I be happy when he was killed? I should've been me. I should've stopped it," I began to sob, the memories flooded my mind and hit me like a tidal wave.

"Ronald Billius Weasley, don't you dare say that," Hermione growled, tears streaking down her beautiful face as she gripped my face tightly in her hands. "Don't you dare say that. Fred knew what he was getting himself into, he knew the choices he was making and the sacrafices in the end. There was NOTHING you could've done. I know your hurting, I am too. But don't you dare say that it should've been you. How dare you be so selfish as to even think that. Think about doing that to me."

I could see her point. I would be devastated if I lost her, but I would also be incredibly angry at her for not doing something about it.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. But I just see his face and I just remember and tomorrow we have to bury him and I can't believe I won't see him at breakfast again. He won't finish George's thoughts or pat me on the back when I do something stupid. He won't be here anymore," I sobbed into her hair.

Hermione didn't respond, just let me vent for a few more moments on things that I couldn't believe had ended. She layed down on my bed, allowing me to curl up against her stomach as she methodically ran her fingers through my hair, calming me.

My tears subsided over time as the sun sank furthur and furthur down the horizon of the orchard. Hermione reached over and flicked on my lamp on my bedside table.

"Can we stay together, Hermione? Please," I begged with one final sob, clutching to her wait desperately and almost pathetically.

"We're in this together and forever, Ron. I love you," was her simple answer. That's a "yes". Hermione Weasley. Offically.

"Together and forever," I repeated, my teary smile pressed into the cloth of her t-shirt. "I like that."

"Me too," she whispered with a smile.

The sky was pitch black now, having melted completely into the clearest night with the brightest moon.

"I was thinking," I started to say, pulling away from her stomach when my eyes had dried.

"Oh no," Hermione cheeked, giggling when I sent her the evil eye.

"Watch it. I've been thinking, we should get remarried."

"Remarried?"

"Yeah, even if you say you've had your dream wedding, which I don't believe, I know all girls grow up thinking of their mushy perfect wedding with a big white dress and flowers. I want to give you that. Once things calm down and we tell our families, we should have another ceremony. A real one, like Bill and Fleur's. I want to give you the ceremony you've always dreamed about, in front of our friends and family."

She had tears in her eyes before I even finished. When I had, she tackled me onto my bed, giggling and kissing me everywhere she could. My stomach did flips.

"Really?" She questioned with a smile, pushing herself up onto her elbows so she hovered over me. I leaned back against my pillows, perfectly content holding her in my arms.

"Really. Mum will get a kick outta it. And I'm sure your dad will want the chance to walk you down the aisle."

"Who are you and what have you done with rude, lazy and prat of a boy Ronald Weasley, I've known for seven years? Who is this sweet and charming man laying next to me?" Hermione teased.

"The man who married the woman of his dreams," I said slowly, feeling my ears tip red. Hermione just smiled and laid her head on my chest, snuggling close to my side.

"So it's settled then. You'll go get your parents, we'll tell my parents. We'll let mum plan another wedding, we'll get fabulous jobs that are well-paid, since we're war heroes. We'll travel the world in our free time and we'll make lots of babies. When we die Hermione, we'll be old as can be. I promise."

My cheeks and ears must be a brilliant shade of red.

"That sounds like the most amazing plan Mr. Weasley," Hermione mumbled against my chest.

"Stay with me tonight?" I asked quietly into my tiny orange room. She didn't respond, just nodded against the fabric of my shirt. I knew she was getting tired.

"So, we're going to travel?" She asked suddenly.

"Well, yeah. You always used to come back from summer holiday talking about where you and your parents went. I know you love to travel and the only place I've ever been is Egypt. We can go together."

"France, Italy, Greece. Oh, I've always wanted to go to Greece," Hermione squealed as she squeezed me tighter. I could tell she was getting excited. "And India and Africa. I've read all about it. And America. Ireland. Oh, China has the most amazing libraries from the first dynasties -"

"No way. We're not going to China so you can go to a library," I interrupted with a laugh.

"Why not?" She demanded.

"Because I said so. If we go anywhere, we go to Germany. Don't they have that big Muggle festival you were talking about. Devoted to beer and food?"

"You would want to go to the Oktoberfest for the food," Hermione said with a fake disappointed sigh.

"You want to go to China for the library!" I reminded her. "We can go anywhere we want to, Hermione. We've got plenty of time now."

"That's true," Hermione sighed happily, resting her head on my shoulder again. "It seems unremarkable that it's finally over. No more Death Eaters or battles. No more life-threatening situations and worrying about Harry. It's all over. He's gone now. Voldemort is no more."

"Thanks bloody Merlin," I sighed and she laughed before commenting on my use of swears.

"Are you going to take Kingsley's offer about going into the Auror program?" She mumbled sleepily against my chest.

"I think so. I'm going to see if George needs help with his shop first though. I've had enough stress for awhile. We need a break."

"That's true. I'm happy for you." She didn't sound like it.

"What's on your mind Hermione?"

"Nothing. I'm happy for you. And Harry. You two have been talking about being Aurors for as long as I can remember."

"Then what's the problem?" I asked, rubbing her back. It felt so natural to finally touch her like I've always wanted to. I found no hesitation in my movements anymore.

"It's not a problem, it's just that I'm going to worry so much about the two of you. After everything, it would've been nice to not have that knot in my stomach regarding you and Harry. But I know the two of you weren't cut out to sit behind a desk all day. It's just going to be hard, being an Auror's wife and best friend."

Auror's wife. Right on .

"I'm sorry, Hermione -"

"Don't apologize, Ron. I love you. I'll be strong for you, I promise."

"Thanks love."

"Anytime."

"Are you going back to Hogwarts?" I asked hesitantly.

"I was talking to Professor McGonagall this afternoon, via owl. And she was saying they were opening again in September and I was welcome to come back. But I don't know if I could go without you and Harry, and everyone else from our year. She said that she and the other teachers could tutor me privately, like twice a week, if I still wanted to sit in on my N.E.W.T.S."

"That's fantastic, 'Mione."

"I think so. I'm still undecided," she told me.

"We wouldn't be apart then," I whispered into her hair. I felt her smile against my chest.

"I know," she whispered back. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

"You wouldn't get to be Head Girl," I pointed out.

"I know, but I don't think I could go back after everything this past year. This way I can finish my education and take my examinations, we aren't separated and we move on. It's a good situation.

"Agreed,"

"But you'll have to go away for training," Hermione sighed.

"I know, but it's not that long. It's only for a few months." I said, already dreading it.

"I understand. I'm so proud of you," She hesitated for a moment and I could feel her apprehension, "Our kids will be proud of their father."

I smiled so wide, it hurt my cheeks.

"Oh yeah?" I cheeked.

"Yes."

"Do you want a lot of kids, like my family?" I asked her, genuinely curious.

"Not as many, I don't think. I love your mum, but I couldn't handle it," Hermione told me with a smile.

"You'll be a great mum," I told her, upset when she snorted. "I'm serious Hermione. The way you took care of me and Harry this past year; you would be the best mother. You _will _be the best mother."

Our cheeks must have pinkened in unison.

"You will be an amazing father. I know it. I don't want a lot of kids, but I know I want a boy."

"Well, I want a girl just like her mother. There's a fifty percent chance that we'll get one or the other," I teased and Hermione laughed. I glanced at my wrist watch and discovered it was almost three o'clock in the morning. Harry must have crashed with Ginny. Yuck.

"That's a good point. Let's just hope it doesn't take six tries to get your girl like with your parents," I tickled her sides then and she squirmed.

"Yes, let's pray for one of each. Right away. I don't want my kids growing up as sad as me, being the youngest in such a big family. I love my family, but their overwhelming sometimes."

"That's true. One of each. A girl and a boy. With red busy hair and freckles." I laughed when she told me this and I squeezed her tighter. A week ago, I still blushed as we held hands and walked along the shore at Bill and Fleur's cottage. Now, we're married and talking about kids.

Whatta life I have.

"You'll teach them how to read and I'll teach them how to fly," I said and she smiled again. I could feel her breathing slow and I knew she was on the brink of falling asleep. I was awfully tired myself.

Another fifteen or so minutes passed before I plucked up the courage to say; "Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley. Have the sweetest dreams, my love." I was almost positive she was asleep against my chest.

"I will. About Chinese libraries and a little ginger boy and girl," she mumbled sleepily against my chest. I chuckled, kissed my wife on the forehead and fell into the most peaceful sleep I could ever imagine.


	5. Various States of Black Undress

My head was pounding. All of my blood was surrounding my now dry, cakey and splotchy cheeks. The sockets of my eyes were throbbing and achy, with no tears left to be shed.

I had buried my brother today.

And he would have been disappointed. The same little preacher from Fleur and Bill's wedding handled the ceremony. Everyone was in black. The only quiet smiles came from George's speech, in which he read a letter Fred had written before the war in case he had not made it.

There was no celebration of life. No bright colored clothing, pints of Butterbeer and tales of his adventures told. It had been depressing as hell.

The sun was setting over the orchard now, from the angle I could see laying down on my bed. The cast of the sunset turned my already orange and vibrant room into a calm creamsicle color, casting shadows across the wood floors.

I could hear some of my cousins and extended family in the kitchen and lower levels, chatting with remmants of grief. I had come up to my room for some solitude, to escape the lack of noise the Burrow usually possesses.

My dress robes sat in a pile on the floor and my shoes had been kicked haphazardly to the corner of my closet. I reached to my neck, with slow and achy movements, to loosen my tie and push my sleeves up to my elbows.

I had lost track of how much time it had been since I came up here and cried my eyes out, but my depressing thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

It was probably Percy or my mum telling me it was rude to lock myself away with guests downstairs, needing to be entertained. It was a funeral but my mother was still ever the hostess.

I opened my mouth to tell them to bugger off when a voie spoke quietly through the crack of the door, "It's me."

Hermione. Thank God.

"Come in. Please," I said quickly, my voice cracking painfully. The doorknob turned and in she walked, my saving grace.

Her hand had held onto mine so tightly during the service, I'm wouldn't be surprised if she had finger shaped bruises from the pressure. After my brothers and I had carried the casket into the meadow, the same one we played Quidditch in, and layed his coffin on the makeshift alter for the priest, I had sat down next to Hermione. Harry was on my other side, holding onto my shoulder with one had and wrapping the other one around my sister.

Hermione had looked up at me when I had sat down and wrapped an arm around me, resting it on Harry's elbow. I was cacooned in my best friends as I watched my brother disappear into the cold, May ground.

"Hi," she said quietly now as she walked into my room, holding a plate of food. She closed the door behind her and muttered a quiet Silencing charm.

"Hi 'Mione," I mumbled, not moving a muscle on my bed. She hovered awkwardly in the middle of the room for a moment before walking over to lean her bum against my desk in front of me. The way I was leaning against my pillows meant I was facing her.

Hermione placed the plate on my dresser and rested both hands on the desk, stretching her long and gorgeous body out. Her hair was down and in soft, beautiful curls. I hadn't noticed how long her hair had gotten over the course of not being cut in over a year. She wore simple dress and sweater, both black and somber but form fitting enough to make my pants fit more to my own form, if you know what I mean. She was even wearing black, shiny heels.

She looked different, more fancy then the comfortable sweaters and holy jeans I've been accustomed to seeing. But basked in the beautiful peach sunset coming off my window, she had never looked more beautiful to me.

"Your mum made a ton of food," Hermione said, smiling softly at me. "And I think all of your aunts brought something too. I made you a plate."

"I'm not really hungry," I said with a deep and cracky voice. I simply shrugged. The corners of her gorgeous mouth turned up at the corners slightly.

"Ronald Weasley? Not hungry?" She teased, putting a hand to her chest.

"I know. There must be a cosmic shift in the universe," I cheeked. Hermione simply smiled and shook her head before glancing around my room and I got a good 4 seconds of shameless staring. This light hid the dark circles I knew were under her eyes .

"You look tired," I pointed out. The dust particles in my room were floating near her elbows in a ray of afternoon sun. The room felt peaceful.

She pushed herself off the dresser and walked slowly towards the center of my room, her heels clicking against the hardwood. She bent down, carefully in her dress, to pick up my dress robes off the floor. I smiled, my heart filling with love for her and her little domestic, "Hermione" quirks.

"Well, you don't look to bright and spritely yourself, wise guy," She pursed her lips playfully. My smile widened. As she turned towards my closet to hang up the cloak, I raised myself off my bed.

The springs creaked pathetically and my head spung slightly as I stood up. Hermione turned as she rested the cloak on a hanger, facing me again. I took in the whole sight of her: soft brown curls, gorgeous face, curves accentuated in black, long legs in black high heels. Her eyes feasted on me as well as we seized each other up.

We moved at the same time, striding across the floor towards each other until we met in a tangle of limbs in the center of my room. The length of her body pressed against mine, higher up in her heels, as her lips met mine fiercely.

The pace quickly accelerated and I couldn't find a place to rest my hands. They wanted to explore. It had been two days since she fell asleep in my bed and last night I had terrible nightmares without her warm body pressed against mine under the cool sheets.

I had a craving. One hand threaded themselves in her hair, locking her face against mine as her lips and tongue rocked in synch with me. The other headed down the length of her side, against her breast, her stomach and landing dangerously low on her hip.

There was nothing but the sound of mine and Hermione's deep breaths in my quiet, glowing room. Her breasts were pushing against my chest and her hands were in my hair and around my neck. I just needed all of her and there was a certain part of my anatomy flushing with blood because of that need.

She tugged on my collar and tugged on her sleeve. Man up, Ron, I thought to myself. She is your wife. You cannot be afraid to touch her. You missed out on seven years because of your stupidity, you will take every chance you have now. And with one little pep talk, I reached down and slid her sweater off her shoulders.

And I almost burst right then and there as her lips didn't stop, but her fingers in my hair did as she reached her arms back so I could lower it off and to the ground. So much new kissing room, I thought. I was at the point of heavy panting as I worked my lips down her neck and onto a creamy, soft shoulder. My only barrier: a thin black strap.

When she moaned quietly into my mouth, I knew she was as desperate as I was so in one fluid motion, I reached down to grip both of her thighs and hoist her legs around my waist. Her gentle squeak of surprise was quite possibly the most adorable and sexy thing that has ever come out of her mouth and by the way her hands and lips increased speed, I knew I had permission.

She kicked her shoes off and they both fell to the floor with thunderous clunks as I walked towards my bed. Her lips broke away from mine for a moment to catch our breaths as she giggled against my ear.

I playfully tossed her onto my bed as she laughed and pulled her dress down a little, as it had risen with her ride. Hermione was laying on my bed, in a little black dress, with cheeks red with a blush under my gaze. Her lips were pink and swollen from kissing and her chest and breasts under the neckline of her dress were panting, trying to catch her breath.

"Are you just going to stand there, Weasley?" She demanded with a playful and incredulant smile. And she laughed harder when I practically pounced on her. My lips were on her neck and her chest, cruising her upper bust as she continued to laugh.

"I love you so much, Hermione," I murmured with a smile against her skin. Her fingers threaded themselves in my hair again, at the base of my neck and she tugged. I looked up at her and her eyes shined brightly.

"Say it again," she demanded.

"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger," I announced. She closed her eyes happily and smile, pulling my face back towards her. I was 150% turned on now and from the angle I was leaning into Hermione, the blood rushed to my ears and I figured she could probably tell.

Our kissing was fast and intense, all lips and tongue and working fingers. Her fingers worked on my tie, loosening it until she could pull it off and over my head. I didn't want to ruin things. We had just gotten together, in a very dramatic way. No one knew we were together and my brother's body was probably still warm under the grass. But all I could think about was Hermione's skin.

And I almost pee'd myself with excitement when her tiny, ink-stained fingers began working on my white button down. I moaned deeply into her mouth as her fingers brushed my bare chest. I had picked a prime day to not wear an undershirt.

Hermione smiled against my lips and timidly at first, she rocked her hips up against mine. And I pushed back.

The kissing continued, ferious and intense. My shirt ended up on the floor, where my dress robes had landed earlier and Hermione's skirt was hiked up and the straped pulled down.

It was bliss.

"Ron? Are you okay?" A voice came barreling through the door at the same moment when Hermione's dress came down over a black lacy bra and my cock almost exploded. Hermione pushed me upright and I sat up in a panic.

I grabbed my wand off the night stand as Harry knocked on my door, repeating his question. I pointed it towards the entrance and muttered the counter-charm to the Silencing spell Hermione had placed upon entering.

"Yeah, mate," I said, clearning my voice from the high-pitched awkwardness. Hermione readjusted herself on my lap, pressing her face against my bare chest to stifle her laughter.

"Are you sure?" His concerned voice questioned and I heard him turn the doorknob. He only found it to be locked. Hermione burst out laughing then and all movement from Harry stopped and turned to silence.

"Hermione's with you?" Harry gasped and I felt my face flush at his tone.

"Hi, Harry," she said brightly, eyeing my reaction as we both listened to his.

"Oh God," he mumbled and I laughed long and loud. Hermione giggled against my shoulder. "This is so weird. Oh my gosh. I wanted to talk to you both but you're doing things, aren't you? Are you kissing? Are you two together? There was a Silencing charm, wasn't there? Oh God. Oh God. Oh God."

Harry's hysterics went on for a few minutes and as the plain awkward panic became more evident in his voice, the more laughter came from Hermione and I.

"Harry. Why don't you go down to the garden if you have to talk to us. We'll meet you in a few minutes," Hermione suggested. He mumbled an okay and stalked down the stairs.

I looked down at the gorgeous women sitting carelessly in my lap, both of us in near stages of undress.

"Hi," she whispered with pink cheeks.

"Hi," I replied, kissing her gently on her lips. Harry had ruined the passion and the desperate heat of the moment, but she still was as beautiful as ever.

"We should go down and tell him, shouldn't we? Tell him about everything?" She suggested, looking into my eyes as she pushed a piece of my hair back behind my ear.

"We should. We wanted him to be the first to know," I nodded and she untangled herself from my lap. I sat on my bed for a moment and watched her readjust herself, her dress and her sweater and as she quickly pulled her hair into a plait, struggling to push down the frizz I had created with my gangly pale and freckled fingers.

I reached down and pulled the Chudley Cannon t-shirt out from under my bed, pulling it on instead of my forgotten dress shirt, sitting in a pathetic, wrinkled clump.

"I hate these shoes," she told me, hooking them with her index finger and hoisting them up for me to see.

"They do have their advantages, though," I told her, coming to stand in front of her as I put my hands on her waist. She had dropped several inches to her normal height, standing barefoot. "You're easier to reach when you're not a midget"

She made a fake grouch face at my teasing. "I'll have you know that I'm of a perfectly average height. You're just a giant."

I laughed and pressed my lips to her forehead, still feeling the ache in my lower half but pushing it aside for the time being.

"Come on. Let's go tell our best friend you married a giant. Hagrid would be thrilled."


End file.
